


as good a place to fall as any

by thorduna



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dream Sex, M/M, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorduna/pseuds/thorduna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor's dreams are not his own anymore.</p>
<p>And then they bleed into his reality too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as good a place to fall as any

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this during a storm :)))
> 
> Posting from vacation, so the editing might not be the best. I hope you will enjoy anyway!
> 
> (thoughts on tagging this as dub con?)

It's a recurring dream. It always starts the same and varies only slightly – some event comes a bit quicker than the previous time, or there is a detail changed at random.

 

The first time it happened he woke covered in sweat and achingly hard – but that wasn't what scared him the most. No, it was the nagging feeling that once, centuries ago, he had a dream just like this. The memory that in that time, he drank the images it brought to his mind away, chased them off with boisterous fights with anyone who would dare face the first son of Odin in battle, and covered them underneath bravado and shouting.

 

It's different now. He _could_ attempt to get himself drunk on the weak midgardian alcohol and he likely will get a chance to break a sweat during some Avengers' business. But there will be no boasting, no pretence.

 

First of all, there is no one's regard that he values that would be lost by knowing what plagues his nights. And secondly, he knows now that his mind can be his own. The boy-ish self-consciousness that came with being constantly in the public eye, as the first prince and later as the heir, the one that he hid by pretending to be perfectly unaware of such things, and with acting like nothing could touch him, be it foe or gossip, was long gone.

 

But still the dreams bother him. The sight of his dead brother is both a blessing and a curse – he loves to gaze upon his Loki's face, but at the same time it is a cruel reminder of the fact that Loki is lost to him. And, somewhat ruefully, he tells himself that maybe he would like to see Loki in some other way than with his brother rocking above him, face contorted in cruel pleasure.

 

But they must be _sex_ dreams, of all things. Thor's thighs shake every time he wakes and the phantom feeling of being speared open lingers. It's not bad, exactly, it just leaves him feeling bereft. If Loki were _here_ with him, alive, Thor would want to do so many things – hug his brother, for sure. Punch him in the face. Talk until his throat was sore. Even now, without prompting, his mind spins with questions and apologies.

 

And Hel, fucking might be on the agenda too. Why not? It's physical, it's good. The pleasure shared between them might just as well help them through some of the harder arguments. Soothe the panicked, anxious heart-beats in their breasts after they've unearthed their secrets to each other. But it would not be the first, nor the only thing Thor would want to do and he's baffled as to why it plagues his mind in such a way.

 

And then there is the worry that once, he might have wanted it and he rejected it violently. Did Loki know? Could he see into his young, arrogant brother's heart so easily that he saw what Thor himself refused to name? Did he hate Thor for not being able to act on that particular desire? That thought stings.

 

Thor ponders it all, looking out to the normally stunning view of New York that the huge windows of his quarters in the Avengers tower grant him – now it's gone a bit bleak with a string of rain that muddles everything and casts it in grey. Thor has little to do with this development. He leaves Midgard's weather be these days.

 

The same day, many hours later, he returns there and goes to bed after a long, hot shower to wash away the sweat he worked up with vigorous exercise in a futile attempt to chase his dreams away. And he went that extra mile too – standing under the steaming stream, he wrapped a hand around his cock and tugged at himself until he spent. He cares not what he thinks of, in fact, he does not put much thought – nor fantasy – into the act at all, but there are whispers of thoughts at the back of mind that become more pronounced as his cock stiffens further in his palm.

 

It feels as though he's been lying down for hours and yet sleep evades him, or so he believes. He's too hot all of a sudden and kicks off the covers, baring himself to the cool air of the room.

 

And then his eyes snap open, heart beating wildly as the softest of kisses is placed on his abdomen.

 

Loki hovers above him on all fours, a sight not unusual for one of his dreams. His dark hair hangs loosely, framing his face prettily and his eyes are easy to distinguish even in the dim light.

 

Loki watches him for a while as though to make sure Thor sees him and then lowers his head to press more kisses on Thor's stomach, hot tongue darting out to map the valleys of Thor's abs.

 

It's madness but for some reason Thor merely drops his head back onto his pillow and lets it happen, though his chin is still tilted down so he can watch. Loki's head moves gently across Thor's midsection, his kisses growing more and more wet and open until they are rather like one continuous motion of sucking; it makes Thor shiver and want more.

 

And _more_ he gets, though not precisely where he imagined that hot mouth to be. Loki crawls backwards a little but only skims Thor's cock with his lips, breathing around the soft skin.

 

He grips Thor's thighs just underneath the knees and pushes them up, spreading Thor open.

 

“Norns,” Thor gasps, helpfully keeping his knees up, obeying Loki's wordless command and he at first doesn't understand why Loki stopped moving. Then it dawns on him – in the dreams, they never speak.

 

But the madness has taken a firm root in Thor it seems and he says nothing else, merely breathing loudly into the darkness of the room, his legs spread and hips tilted up. Shortly after, Loki seems to take the hint and he keeps going, mouthing at the inner part of Thor's thigh, getting closer and closer to his apparent goal. Thor moans when Loki licks at the crease of his thigh and goes deeper in, teeth grazing the underside of his bottom. Then he is there, at what feels to be the very core of Thor's being at that moment and his world narrows to the sensations he's receiving through that fragile, puckered ring of skin – the wetness of Loki's tongue, every single twitch and lick of it, the warmth of his brother's breath gusting between Thor's legs.

 

A particularly confident trust of Loki's tongue parts the tight muscle and Thor almost shouts out at the sensation, in equal measure invasive and wanted – but what's more, his lips are already forming Loki's name and he is desperate to cry it out.

 

He doesn't want to break the charm though – the mad, impossible moment – and so he bites his lower lip between his teeth hard and stops himself.

 

Loki is gripping the underside of Thor's thighs hard and is forcing him to bare himself completely, knees as far as they will go, hips tilted in a way that allows Thor to hide nothing at all. Thor drags his nails down the length of his own torso, using the prickle of pain to rouse himself and to keep from just grasping his cock and bringing himself off. It wouldn't take long, despite the wank he's had in the shower what he presumes was barely hours ago. But he knows that would go against the rules.

 

The rules, as far as he can tell, are to pretend this is a dream, the same dream that he's been having for weeks now. In a way, what's happening now is almost identical to it. If he were to allow himself to think about it at all, he would probably suspect that Loki has been grooming him to enjoy this, to crave it.

 

Oh and he _does_ crave it. Loki's nimble tongue feels heavenly, but even so it's only a promise of what he hopes will come. He shuts his eyes tightly and rides out the slick, tingling feeling of it, a sensation that is both teasing and deeply satisfying, caressing such a sensitive place. Loki is generous with licks all over Thor's crease, dipping up to Thor's balls before diving down again, but he focuses most intensely on the wreath of skin, teasing the fragile edge and pushing past the tight ring to fuck into Thor's hole as deep as his tongue will go.

 

Thor is floating high on all the sensation, but he doesn't miss the way Loki's control slips – his licks go messier, more forceful and at times there is also a hint of sound coming from his elusive brother – a choked down moan, a sigh of pleasure. Dream Loki is always in perfect control.

 

Seemingly all of a sudden Loki stops and then he is over Thor, lodged between Thor's still raised legs, hands encircling Thor's wrists and pressing them into the mattress above their heads. Instinctively – though maybe it's not instinct, maybe it's pure want; a desire that he never allowed himself to name – he leans up and kisses Loki. His advance is bold and his lips press wetly against Loki's. He is arching up, trying to rub his aching cock against Loki's belly and there it is once again – that shock, the pause.

 

That is not how his dream visitor is meant to be and Thor growls at him in warning.

 

He seems to get it immediately and Thor yelps as his upper lip is bitten harshly before Loki's tongue slips into his mouth, as bold as it was before in other places. Soon after, Thor's pliant arms are shifted and only one of Loki's hands holds him in place, the other slips in between them and shortly finds its destination in the crease of Thor's ass.

 

The sudden surge of warm slick that is left to dribble from his hole is wholly familiar from his dreams.

 

He gasps for breath in anticipation.

 

If he were not certain that he wasn't dreaming before, _this,_ the feeling of Loki's cock nudging him open would certainly leave no doubts. He feels spread and open just as he did in the dreams, but it's so much _more_ : there is a harsh burn spreading from his core outwards because his body simply isn't used to this, but there is also the overwhelming feeling of fullness – and above of all, the sense of being somehow _complete_. Perfect. Finished.

 

He breaks the hold Loki has on his wrists with ease and burrows one hand in Loki's hair while he presses the other one to the small of Loki's back to urge him forward. Harder and faster, that's what he needs at that very moment, but he can't say it yet, so he uses the pressure of his palm and the desperate tilt of his hips to communicate his desires.

 

Loki gives him what he wants, steadying himself on his knees and planting his elbows by Thor's shoulders – he drives forward with a skilled snap of his hips at the end of each thrust and Thor groans. There is simply no way he can keep quiet – he will just have to make sure the sounds he makes are wordless, that's all.

 

Loki never falters, he fucks Thor deep and harsh, at first pulling so far out on each stroke that he slips out several times – which leads to him again and again parting Thor's flesh as though it's magic – and it feels like every single thrust goes on forever, the almost anxious feeling pooling in the pit of Thor's stomach when he pulls out and the hot fullness soothing him again when he thrusts in.

 

And Loki keeps speeding up, shortening the work his hips do and driving Thor further into madness. Thor grips the back of Loki's neck and brings his brother as close to himself as possible, choking on the cries he can't let out until even that isn't enough and he simply has to bite down on Loki's shoulder. The pain of it – or maybe simply the act alone – incites Loki and he fucks Thor all the harder for it, the slapping sound of their skin becoming almost deafening, even more so because they are both still trying very hard to hold on to the idea that neither of them is making any sound.

 

The thrusts almost drive the breath out of Thor and he twitches underneath his brother's lighter form, spilling with an unrestrained groan. It tears out of him in a way that makes all his quiet, unexcited orgasms of late unworthy of their name – this is what coming truly should feel like, Thor thinks deliriously. His ass clenching down around his brother's cock and his mouth full of Loki's flesh.

 

The feeling of Loki stiffening and spending deep inside of him rouses him with a fresh wave of excitement. A couple of feverish thoughts run through his mind – especially featuring Loki fingering him with all that come gushing out of Thor as he is treated to something drawn out and dirty – but then reality simply comes _crashing down_.

 

Thor's thought-dead brother is in his bedroom, in his _bed_ , inside of _him_ , and his idea of a _hello, I'm not dead_ was to plant erotic dreams into Thor's mind and then, when Thor showed signs of enjoying them, to appear and re-enact such a dream.

 

Thor is quick and Loki is still twitching inside of him, spilling the last drops of seed into Thor's ass. Thor has him by the neck and the positions reversed in a second and he kneels over Loki while he uses a nudge of electricity from his skin to turn on the lights in the room. Stark has repeatedly asked him not to do that, as it damages the wiring greatly, but Thor rather thinks this is an acceptable situation to make an exception.

 

The bright reality is sharp and painful. Loki is sprawled underneath him on the bed, pale, with only red blotches on his cheek, a testimony to the effort he's exerted and the orgasm he's had, a beginning of a smirk forming on his face.

 

“Bastard,” Thor growls.

 

“Hello to y-”

 

Thor slaps him, cutting off that remark.

 

“Shut up.”

 

He sees in Loki's eyes that he has a thousand of scathing replies to such a pointless command and so he opts to cuts those off as well.

 

“You may speak after I've had _my turn_ with you.”

 


End file.
